Historical Synagogue

My twelve semi-annual projects often include a quota of day trips or other visits to places I've not been before.  One opportunity came my way unexpectedly.  The American Jewish Committee, among my favorite advocacy groups, invited me to a special luncheon in Philadelphia.  The local chapter has a memorial endowment to honor an esteemed historian of American Judaism.  Lunch would be kosher, priced at $36 for the entire event.  They announced the two guest speakers.  The Mayor would offer her remarks on the role of Jews in our city.  Another esteemed historian, this one a retired Reform Rabbi of local prominence and protege of the endowed professor, would follow with a presentation on the role of Philadelphia's small contingent of Jews in the American Revolution, as national preparations proceed to celebrate the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence this summer.  I reserved a place.

With attacks on places where Jews gather becoming distressingly common, many of our agencies have avoided announcing the location of events until the day before, and then only broadcast by email to those registered to attend.  It would have to take place at a site the Mayor could easily access, either near City Hall or the Historical Area.  My email directed me to Mikveh Israel Synagogue, the city's oldest.  I'd never visited, though I knew of its historical prominence in the development of American Judaism.

The day arrived.  As a senior, I have an unlimited pass that gives me free access to SEPTA regional rail system, provided I do not cross any of Pennsylvania's borders.  The transportation will only cost $2 for parking at the train station a few miles from my home.  I checked the schedule two days before.  Take the 9:36AM commuter train, which will bring me about seven blocks from the synagogue.  From there, I could either take a bus or the subway to within a block of the event, or just walk the distance.  The train pulled into Marcus Hook station a few minutes late but arrived at Philadelphia's Jefferson Station uneventfully.  This terminal has its own attractions.  The City Hall complex can be seen to the west.  Tunnels take visitors to what they designate as the Fashion District and the famous Reading Terminal Market, which serves an array of ethnic cuisines.  The Convention Center sits just beyond that, and Philadelphia's small but active Chinatown another block in the direction of the Historical Area.  I opted to walk, it being a pleasant mid-morning.  

Market Street.  Once the city's main thoroughfare.  Addresses read North or South depending on their direction from Market Street.  The surroundings near the train station have long since lost their elegance.  Iconic department stores, many of Jewish origin, have closed.  Their repurposed buildings now anchor retail chains that die in parallel at regional malls.  I strolled onto the Historical Area.  The green next to the Independence Hall Visitors Center sponsored a national Prayer Day.  A young lady did a dance on the lawn waving a flag with each arm.  I captured a video.  In one direction I could see Independence Mall with a group of Amish teens in traditional dress heading to their timed tour.  A class trip of grade schoolers followed.  To the north, I could see the Constitution Center and the Mint, each requiring a telephoto of my phone camera.  Franklin sites sat across the street, largely without tourists at mid-morning.  As I reached 4th Street, I turned left.  Address given to me 44 North 4th.  Mikveh Israel should be in the next block.  I didn't see it.  Finally, I reached the Windham Hotel, unsure if I had passed my destination or had yet to reach it.  I entered the lobby, inquiring of the Concierge.  I had passed it.  Rather than sitting beside the sidewalk, the synagogue occupied a nook with a tiny path creating its front entrance.  In this era of synagogue attacks, not being noticeable from the street has a security advantage, one enjoyed by my own congregation.  

I entered a modern brick building, its name in block signage over glass doors that ran most of the synagogue's width.  Two men in suits stood at the entrance, not the uniformed officers whom visitors to American synagogues now encounter first.  I proceeded to a registration table, the first one there.  I showed the AJC official my driver's license.  She then handed me my name tag, placed alphabetically right below the Mayor's.  I peeled the adhesive, then attached it to my shirt.

History had a full display, as did current worship practices.  Glass cases displayed notes from Presidents, Washington first, Trump front and center, Lincoln's in his own handwriting with his personalized Humble and Obedient Servant closing, FDR's typed and signed.  Displays of artifacts from the colonial era and beyond.  Judaica used at various times in the synagogue's history.  As the main game in town from its 1740 founding until mass immigration 150 years later, many of their Baalebatim occupied prominent places in Philadelphia's history, as they do today.  Portraits of these men, all men, lined the walls above the display cases.

One room had a more temporary exhibit.  A member secured a collection of portraits and other photos of diplomats from around the world assigned to 1930s Europe.  They came from South America, the Far East, different parts of Europe.  As Naziism took hold in Germany, then moved to France and eastward, the need for Jews to relocate became apparent.  These diplomats offered exit visas.  One bishop, later known to the world as Pope John XXIII, offered phony baptismal certificates to many.  The exhibit had a display case of books about that era in Europe.  The display's curator, who must have spent considerable time assembling this, personally guided me through the various items.  In modern contentious times, good will still lurks, its abundance uncertain.  Courage may be more scarce.

Too many historical synagogues, from Europe to the Caribbean to the Lower East Side, now function more as museums than as places where Shabbos services take place.  Mikveh Israel remains an active synagogue with a black sign with movable white letters at the entrance announcing prayer times and the name of its Rabbi.  I entered the sanctuary.  It is modeled in the Portuguese style of its origins.  A central table stands in the middle, the Holy Ark on what I think is the east wall.  Behind the central table is a seating area, marble and cushioned, with an ornate patterned rug.   I assume the Rabbi and president sit there.  Worshipers occupy pews running the length of the sanctuary, each facing the center.  The room has four entrances, two to the north, two to the south of the center.  This synagogue follows a tradition of separate seating for men and women.  The latter occupy the back two rows on each side and enter from separate doors.  Unlike most American orthodox synagogues, they do not have a physical barrier to obscure women's view of the proceedings and the genders' view of each other.  The women's two rows of pews sit slightly elevated from the men's.  

Books for worship sit in holders in front of the seats.  Their Siddur has a prominent Sephardic Rabbi as editor.  Their Chumash remains the iconic Hertz, that staple of American synagogues for fifty years, until largely displaced by the emergence of Artscroll.  One person must have been a VIP.  Immediately in front of the central table, at floor level, sat a wooden chair with Kohen Hands decorating its back.  Its protection by plexiglass suggests its antique and fragile origin, as well as its historical significance to Mikveh Israel.  Nearly all synagogues I have visited, including my own, have a wooden box near the entrance where those without their own kippot can borrow one, or if a Bar Mitzvah that day, take one home as a souvenir.  This congregation instead had a box of fedoras that men could wear during worship, along with a supply of prayer shawls draped over a rack.

I did not see their kitchen facilities, but AJC assigned me to Table 8 in the middle of their dining room.  The space could accommodate a significant crowd.  I do not have a sense of how many people attend services, how many Bar Mitzvah celebrations they host, or whether that space enables rental income to offset membership dues.  Along the far wall were washing stations, a series of taps and common sink with two-handled lavers set on a stone ledge.  It is customary for people eating a meal to wash their hands with a blessing before blessing a loaf of bread.  This luncheon did not include bread, probably for the convenience of the observant people in attendance.  Tables were set with white tablecloths and dark cloth napkins.  Literature from the AJC sat over each plate and seat.  The caterer arranged a buffet, two lines of identical dishes.  Salmon poached or grilled as the entree, three salads, two sides.  Beverages and dessert display stood waist-high along another wall.  As a nobody, my table would offer me similarly obscure eating companions, with the partners in the Center City law firms seated at tables closer to the lectern from which Her Honor the Mayor would address the group.  I met a few new people, including an Irish woman from the NYC Embassy and a high school friend of my wife. 

The Mayor has a lot of official duties.  She came to us to speak, not to eat, but she waved at my table of Nobodies as she headed to the front.  More of a Jewish-Black partnership pep rally presentation, though with one compelling story of friends reacquainting decades after fleeing the Holocaust.  The educational session did not disappoint.  No bread for the meal meant no Grace After Meal, so I headed home as soon as the moderator opened the floor for questions to the guest Rabbinical scholar.

Center City Philadelphia in mid-afternoon seemed less populated than I expected.  The Day of Prayer in the open space next to the Visitors Center had moved along in its agenda.  Pastors now occupied the stage, one speaking, though not audible to me, while other late-career men in suits sat on the stage waiting their turn.  The discreet signage of the morning had become more explicit.  Along Market Street a revisit to the same storefronts of places I had no desire to enter.  Seven blocks west of Mikveh Israel, I entered Jefferson Station for the SEPTA train home.  A very pleasant day, well worth the $36 luncheon, probably worth deferring other things I could have engaged in at home.

Did my minor adventure yield what I sought?  Mostly it did.  Often, getting there surpasses the destination.  This time historical Mikveh Israel remained the centerpiece.  In an era where synagogues come under attack, where places like my home congregation with a lesser but still significant legacy struggle with attendance, I found it gratifying that a place could live through much of the history of America, contribute to it, and revel in a display of artifacts and portraits of people.  It had an area for worship, a Beit Tefillah, and a library, or Beit Midrash, each smaller than I'd expect.  But it served more as a Beit Knesset, a place where people of prominence from the Founders of the Colonial era to today's Mayor can assemble.  The synagogue reflected stability, if not growth.  And as a meeting place, people of all social strata could admire the displays, eat a luncheon catered with care, and wash hands at a station next to a person who you do not know but who left a civic imprint.  It seemed a place where Social Capital, bonding and bridging, has remained in continuous progress for more than two hundred years.  Absolutely worth devoting a portion of my time to share it with the synagogue and with the event's AJC sponsor.

JNF Reception

As a youngster, my mother would give me dimes to put in the metallic boxes colored in Israel Blue for each session of Hebrew school.  We had one of those boxes with the slot on top at home, though rarely filled it.  I have one in my adult home now, mostly filled waiting to pry off its lid, emptying and counting the coins long overdue.  For special occasions, we would plant trees in Israel, or really pay a dollar into a fund that would hire somebody to serve as our forest agent.  When I made my only visit, a full country Israeli tour in 1999, I learned that despite all this American effort, the buildings were constructed of masonry.  They had no appreciable amount of lumber.  Yet much of Israel looked like places I once lived or visited in America.  The vision to accomplish this came from the Jewish National Fund.  My dimes and dollar bills, very large contributions from some of our most well-off Jews.  It may be one of our best confirmations that Israel is part of Judaism.  We are willing to contribute part of our earnings and savings to make the land sparkle for those who live there, even when we live abroad.  That timeline includes enabling distressed Jews seeking something better than Russia or displaced by Naziism, warfare on the land itself, times of political optimism, and our times dominated by technical innovations.

My community. a small but cohesive American one, shares this effort.  Each year the regional Jewish National Fund office, one stationed in a major Jewish population center a less than two hours drive south, seeks from us a blend of financial support and ideas, by sponsoring an annual event.  We have among us Israelis now living and working in our location.  Children and siblings of very accomplished people have made their homes in Israel.  Most live as they did in America, a few achieving significant public prominence.  For the past three years, I have attended this gathering and later added to the financial collection in a meaningful way.  These assemblies display some combination of the most endearing and most cynical elements of Jewish organizations with a fundraising purpose, though no dispute of the noble cause and the sincerity of the major participants.

This year, the format changed.  It had been a tradition to gather for breakfast on a workday morning at my town's snootiest site.  They made a rare concession to the JNF, allowing a Kosher caterer of the organization's choosing to pre-empt the hotel's otherwise mandatory own kitchen requirement.  People in suits took the morning off from their law offices.  My synagogue had ample representation, mostly of older observant people.  We helped ourselves to coffee at a buffet table, then took seats at round tables.  I made a point of sitting with people I had not known previously, but mostly people sorted themselves out by synagogue or Federation positions.  The table had bagels, much better ones than are sold locally, mounds of plain and herbed cream cheese, insulated ivory coffee carafes for refills, a pastry plate, fruit, and another of lox.  People passed these around.  No public motzi or birchat, despite about half the town's rabbis sitting among the guests.  We ate.  My new acquaitences shared experiences, often commments about this and other Jewish organizations.  Then keynote speakers, typically three.  A community leader serving as our chapter's president would review the projects.  Quite a lot of thought went into creating new towns in parts of Israel less populated than the cities that tourists visit.  Then a financial expert to tell us the many ways we can give that will minimize the very large sums that their most valued donors will owe the IRS just a few weeks after this breakfast meeting, then an invited guest.  In my few times, typically a journalist telling us what she probably tells her therapist.  The others are cruel to me, they have to change.  I found the morning pleasant, the parking in town, now requiring paying by credit card at a kiosk an annoyance, and the organization worthy.

An email from the organizer announced a new format.  New place, new time.  It would take place on a Monday evening at a suburban location of Jewish recognition.  A spacious facility, one with appropriate security for an era when those hostile to Israel menace Jews and affiliated institutions.  Parking free on an ample lot.  Close to the town's Jewish population cluster. Dessert would replace breakfast.  The invited outside speaker had a higher profile.  Young man, part entertainer, part filmmaker, part cyberspace influencer.  I asked the event chairman why they abandoned their longstanding fundraising arrangements.  He indicated that collections had been gradually declining.  The purpose of the event was to attract donors.  To me, it seemed like the breakfast tables sat highly paid men, either in their earning prime or aspiring to it.  Expenses were high, and people they might have liked to attract had reservations about driving into the city.  Only then did I remember the male-dominated attendance.  Perhaps something easier to attend that does not require an absence from work would generate more donors and at less overhead for the JNF.

RSVP sent, reminder of event received by email a few days before.  I could come at 7:30PM.  Those who donated $1800 had a special reception an hour earlier.  Incentives for large donors are common but their perks seemed difficult to predict.  Maybe supper with the invited guest.  I arrived at the hour reserved for the less generous.  No traffic getting there.  Abundant parking.  Not a lot of really fancy cars in the lot.  As I walked past the guards into the building, there did not seem a lot of people already there for the VIP session.  The JNF staff checked my name against their reservation list, handed me an ID tag that I attached to my shirt pocket with a magnet, then shook hands with mostly people that I knew.  We milled in the corridor until the auditorium door opened.  

This place, where my congregation assembled for Holy Days a few months earlier, has a mid-sized auditorium.  It was set up as auditorium seating, rows of chairs allowing everyone to watch a podium, stage and high-end screen.  Chairs facing the stage filled about 2/3 of the space.  The first two rows had Reserved Tags, though I did not identify enough VIPs to fill all of them.  Much fewer people who I had never met before.  My synagogue punched above its weight in attendance.  We are a congregation solidly tied to traditional Judaism and to Israel.  On the Kol Nidre Bond Appeal we make more pledges than the other places despite our smaller membership.  We are also mostly people on Medicare.  Only the speakers, two volunteers and the keynote, wore office attire.  On signal, we took our places.  I selected a seat near the middle.

The local volunteers spoke first.  Same two as each of the last two years.  Impressive discussion of projects in the Negev to make those emerging communities attractive to current Israeli's priced out of Tel Aviv and Jerusalem.  Housing gets priority.  Employment opportunities a secondary priority.  Then the financial man spoke, more low key than I remember from previous events.  Then the keynote.  I found his performance a refreshing change from the beleaguered journalists.  Entertaining, witty, maybe at the upper reaches of my tolerance for slick.  Questions at the end.  Few takers, none provacative.

His speech reinforced what had kept me attracted to the JNF for most of my lifetime.  It also supported how I approach the rise in American antagonism to Israel as a nation-state of the Jewish people and myself as one of the country's admirers, loyal despite the imperfections of its governance.  As the viral video displayed, "I am that Jew."   It was with great curiosity that I reviewed the results of the American Jewish Committee's poll on how this recent rise in travail has impacted us.  They randomly selected me to take that survey.  I have negligible personal adverse encounters.  Yet a sizable minority have, all with different responses.  My only concession has been to leave my tallis bag insignia side down on the back seat of my car.  Since my insurer would have to pay for vandalism, I should not invite it.  But I study my assigned Torah portions in public spaces with a kippah and photocopied Hebrew print.  Only two people have commented, neither confrontational.  The speaker had been assaulted by another skier on a high end ski trail.  He filed assault charges.  American law exists to protect him and me.  We have to call assault and intimidation what they are.  Perhaps getting mugged would change my response, but my Jewish identity requires responsibility for upgrading other Jewish lives.  That's what the JNF does.  I will take my chances with American hoodlums.

After the speeches, everyone assembled for the dessert buffet.  The baked goods did not have dairy or pareve labels, but I had eaten milchig for supper. Some chocolate layer cake, a slice of dragon fruit that I'd not had before, a plastic cup of sprite.  Nobody approached me to chat.  Instead, I headed over first to the regional representative to ask him about resettlement of Israelis into the new Negev towns.  Then I waited my turn to ask a question of the keynote speaker.  He seemed more thoughtful than slick up close.  We agreed on some things, differed on how to best confront or at least cope with the antisemitism that the younger folks encounter.  He noted independently of me that the audience he addressed included mostly seniors like myself, people already committed to our Jewish identities.  A subset of people, mostly prosperous, debt-free, late-life donors.  We are people who have built families, built careers, understand that somebody else built the schools we attended, the houses we purchased, and businesses that employed us.  The younger people not there may not have the same concept of building environments and institutions.  It would have been a better evening with a broader array of ages in attendance.

What did I miss most?  Probably the tables.  An auditorium layout matches common purpose, but so does a sports arena where everyone roots for the same team without knowing each other or anyone new.  The breakfast tables of previous years promoted conversation, whether with old friends or unfamiliar people.  The purpose of the session was to maximize donations to a worthy cause.  The most enduring outcome might be strengthening personal attachments or sharing thoughts.  Groups of eight facing each other accomplish this much better than a collection of a hundred all peering a stage in unison.

After my chat with the honored guest, I put my paper plate and polystyrene cup into the wastebasket, then headed out.  Nobody new in either the lobby or parking lot for me to greet.

Addressing our Anti-Semitic Reality

These have not been two optimal years for Jewish Americans.  Hatred of Jews as people who stay separate dates back perhaps to Pharaoh, who addressed his perception of our communal power by implementing a slavery system, one created by our own successful immigrant ancestor Joseph.  Most of our history has us as a successful subset within a larger dominant population.  We created internal institutions in response to our circumstances.  Places of worship, a religious court system for internal disputes, economic wealth, enduring literature, effective educational systems.  Selected individuals or families would periodically gain prominence amid the majority culture.  But we experienced expulsions and massacres when prevailing cultural values shifted.

While America affords Jewish people our free exercise of religion, recently individual intruders have entered sacred spaces or targeted individuals at worship.  My congregation, and most others, have entrance monitors, often in police uniform, limiting access.  Doors are heavier, reinforced, and fitted with locks to enhance security.  We have had drills during worship, guiding us through a safety procedure for an active assailant.  When I travel, I email my intent to attend a synagogue as a visitor.  I miss the more open-door era, one where a synagogue welcomed all comers without challenge. Though my personal encounters as a Jewish target have been nil, I know people who were victims, including the doctor killed at Tree of  Life.

The American Jewish Committee released the results of its survey on anti-Semitism, seeking opinions of Jews and a broad representative sampling of Americans.  I was one of the Jews surveyed.  I do not recall my individual responses. There seems to be not only more American anti-Semitism, but it has been repackaged as anti-Zionism. And they know who the Zionists are and how to recognize us.  Have I ever personally experienced an incident?  No.  Or really Not Yet.  Do I behave differently?  In a minor way.  When I keep my tallis bag on the back seat of my car, I place it with the Jewish insignia side face down on the cushion.  Anyone passing by can only see a maroon velvet pouch.  I still wear my kippah wherever I want.  While I conceal my tallis bag to protect my insurance carrier, who would have to pay a vandalism claim, I do not hide my person.  If I need to wear my kippah, indeed want to wear my kippah, I do it without reservation.  Most of my sports coats have a lapel pin with American and Israeli flags adjacent to each other.  I've never been challenged, even at receptions where people in the gathering might start taunting me if I wore the same jacket to a university campus.  

I adamantly control my social media platforms, divesting myself of most of them.  As I try to be helpful to the participants of the r/Judaism forum, younger people post their own harrowing experiences pretty much daily.  They know no life without Facebook and its competitors.  Divesting carries a price for many.  Or maybe Twitter is the new nicotine, an intervention designed by experts to create and exploit addiction.  None of this will predictably ease off.  "Doc, they are tormenting me.  They have to change."  The introduction to many a Dear Therapist query.  And any skilled psychologist would advise that you only have the ability to change how you respond.  The discussion in the Jewish community has shifted to a blend of personal responses and communal responses to an adversity that, over a short time, has established a measure of predictability.

Our advocates exist, amassing ample resources and expertise.  I attended a local seminar, a class for seniors via Zoom at my state university.  The guest speaker was the regional director of the Anti-Defamation League.  As she used her time to extol her organization's legacy and educational efforts to minimize anti-Semitism, two questions from the electronic audience stayed with me.  One viewer asked something to the effect of, "if you are so good at this and have been doing it for a hundred years, why haven't your results been better than what we encounter?"  Her agency and another of similar mission had each named new directors.  The previous CEOs had been statesmen of long tenure.  The new heads came from Democratic Party high profile backgrounds.  A Zoom viewer asked her how that shift from diplomacy to political bona fides had changed the agencies.  She did not have an answer to either question that would satisfy a room of retired successful professionals and executives.  Maybe they aren't so good at it.  Maybe our philanthropic representatives have tunnel vision.  Maybe they own the approaches that created their comfort zones.  That online meeting took place during the Covid pandemic, 2000 when people could no longer meet in a classroom or auditorium, places where we could poke the guy in the next seat to express our skepticism as the speaker displayed her Power Point Slides.  In the ensuing five years, we are now back in person, to be harassed as Jews even more mercilessly, both in person and through our electronic global media.

People in that audience and much of the American Jewish public have been through college.  We took courses in psychology and sociology, some requiring independent term papers.  Many of us have careers where we had to assess what the public might find appealing and what they would reject.  We assess efficacy commonly in our business activities, the medicines the doctors among us prescribe, how well our elected officials perform.  Failures and rebound are part of our experience, part of Jewish communal resilience that we grasp as our heritage.  If pouring massive donor funds into educational programs leaves us worse off, it does not take a lot of saichel to explore other options.  But that might mean schecting some very Sacred Cows.  One that cannot be removed is the centrality of Israel to our Jewish narrative.  It appeared in our daily prayers for all the centuries when we lacked sovereignty.  With sovereignty, we made that territory prosperous.  Ownership cannot be negotiated away.  Conquest has been attempted.  We not only have economic prosperity through effort but and effective military as a high priority of that sovereignty.

As Americans, we watch mostly from afar.  Like the Israelis, American Jews have built an imposing presence from very little, but mostly through a combination of staying within the bounds of American rules.  NY Times editor Bret Stephens recently offered an assessment of the situation.  In his highly publicized presentation, he basically advocated writing off the anti-Semites and anti-Zionists. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1QMTjVuo9dE  The communal parallel to putting our own masks on first in popular American travel culture.  We've already done the experiment.  Major cities have hospitals with Jewish names that medical students rank as top choices for their residencies.  They exist from an era when Jewish doctors of similar talent could not get appointments at the flagship university centers.  Our mega law firms carry the names of Jewish founders, as do brokerage firms.  People seek out entertainment of Jewish creation.  Cities have Jewish museums, or even secular ones with wings named after Jewish donors.  His theme, we have the talent, we have the track record of offering opportunities to Jewish people when others begrudged us.  More controversial than strengthening our own offerings to our people, was his suggestion to use the resources from ineffective, futile efforts to marginalize anti-Semitism through public education to expand our own communal growth.

Are we ready to write off our most enduring advocacy groups as ineffective?  Perhaps not.  While anti-Semitism in America, from tacit slurs to deadly shootings, has not disappeared, it was also those agencies that helped bring us entry beyond the niches we created for ourselves into the mainstream.  Jews have representation today in those academic centers, international corporations, and private clubs that once impeded our access.  Making anti-Semitism disappear through education may be a financial boondoggle.  Keeping us mainstream and prosperous, the people that other groups may envy as they promote their own prosperity gospels, still has immense importance.  Making Jew hatred less publicly acceptable remains a laudable undertaking.  Holocaust programs in public schools, Jewish donor names on cultural magnets, and public rallies have not accomplished this.  One track might be to see what efforts have better efficacy.  Faculty at several highly respected universities now have departments that study which initiatives have the most impact.

Ultimately, The Times editor set a correct priority.  The successes that Jews have had in America came from projects of self-help.  Seminaries, summer camps, Jewish schools from pre-school to university, synagogues based on denominational structure, publications of superior quality issued to Jewish audiences, Workmen's Circles at a time when Jewish laborers had vulnerability.  Some thrive today, others succeeded so well as to make their continuance obsolete. He suggested day schools as a foundation, which nobody would dispute.  But within the structure that we have now, a Big Tent model, not everyone finds a welcome.  We have significant attrition, too much of it for adverse experience or other cause.  We have to take great pains not to target our own as expendable, or worse, unworthy. 

What the editor did not include in his remarks is the untapped public goodwill that already exists.  Isolation with internal development offers a lot, but partnerships need a place in the communal agenda.  Can we make anti-Semitism crawl back under the rocks?  Our global platforms, where any malcontent can post with little adverse consequence and find adherents in the thousands makes that unlikely.  Refocus our resources, for sure.  Treat everyone as valuable no matter how challenging, a bit more of a project but within possibility.  Think fundamentally differently than a one-hundred-year ingrained legacy, big challenge.  Possible, high payoff.  High priority.  

Ineffective Message

Two years ago I enrolled in a course at the Osher Institute which highlighted contemporary issues.  Each week the course committee of four which organized the presentations invited an expert, about half from my state university faculty, the others from non-profit agencies that promote the communal good.  I sort of panned the class in the semester evaluation and never enrolled in subsequent semesters, in large part because of a message theme, that idea version of the Greek Chorus, which for many classes registered as I'm not buying that.  Most of my other course selections get rave feedback for content, effort, and teacher.  As a university graduate, medical graduate, and physician, credibility has always been the coin of the realm.  I have no reason to dismiss Thermodynamics even if my understanding is now paltry, or to tune out a survey of American education where disagreements with the presentation are integral to the discussion and welcome.  For the contemporary issues, there was a committee agenda and challenge was sidestepped.  The price of not confronting legitimate challenges to the party line is usually some version of disrespect.  The legitimate points unify with the dubious, or even manipulated ones. They go into the mental wastebasket without separation.

There's a disturbing poll making the news.  Without getting into the science of polling, just accepting the results at face value, it seems young people ages 18-24 expressed a majority view that the world would be better without Israel.  https://nypost.com/2023/12/16/news/majority-of-americans-18-24-think-israel-should-be-ended-and-given-to-hamas/

As an older fellow, I fall into the senior citizen majority, an overwhelming majority.  Indeed, from the mid-30s, that age when Americans can be elected President, there is no element of Gee Whiz.  It is as much a poll on responsibility as it is on political views.  Indeed, my first Presidential vote went for McGovern at age 21.  He wouldn't appear in my political universe at age 40, if only because I had become partly responsible for an America of respectability.  That is probably the best interpretation of the results.  Though not the only one.

Following the poll's release, Jewish advocacy agencies came out in force to belittle the young adults, their secular educators, the news media, cyberspace.  But sometimes Pogo is right, we have met the enemy and he is us.

Back to the OLLI Course.  An esteemed guest, the regional associate director of the Anti-Defamation League, took her turn on the weekly Zoom presentation.  I absolutely support the aims of the ADL, reporting my own anti-Semitic encounters to their ongoing database, and putting their retired Executive Director Abe Foxman as the most esteemed Jewish advocate I have ever personally met.  And she dutifully told the OLLI group the activities and initiatives of her agency.  She put public education of anti-Semitism at the top of her list.  The ADL has been doing this for a hundred years, prompted by the lynching of Leo Frank in a very racist Georgia prior to World War I.  The obvious question at the presentation, at a time when the anti-Semites were becoming more public in their American presence, would have run along the lines, "if the ADL is so good at this and has so much experience, why is anti-Semitism ever on the rise in America as it is now?"

There are a lot of answers to this.  They probably have an element of Dunning-Kruger, where people and agencies overestimate their ability.  A more valid assessment would be that education makes the advocate feel accomplished but really does not impact behavior nearly as effectively as enforceable laws.  We see that in many settings.  Public Service Announcements on seat belt use and smoking cessation appeared regularly on TV for decades.  People drove unharnessed and smoked until fines for not buckling up and eliminating smoking from public buildings and the workplace became the enforceable behavioral expectations.  Of course the insight of the legislators who enacted these came in part from the understanding of the problem that the advocates promoted, but the solution came not from education but a vision of how to achieve a desired outcome.

So with the poll, AJC, ADL, every Jewish advocacy organizations have their pet excuses, though never an internal one, never the realization that educational initiatives do not bring desired results.  Yet they lack any enforceability.  They may not even have the ability to create negative consequences for deviance.  And our universities don't help.  Some of those elite institution Admission Offices laid an egg.  These kids already demonstrated the ability to learn, which is why they have acceptance letters from the places that sent me thin rejection letters in my era.  The goal is not to change attitude but to change behavior.  And that means creating consequences that favor one behavior over another, something our advocacy groups don't seem to understand.  The alumni of those elite schools are not in that 18-24 cohort.  They understand propriety.  They understand what type of person makes a good protégé.  So the solution would be to create a disadvantage to sloganeering for the odious, either by fist in the air or online trail.  When the med/law interviews don't come, when the lucrative hiring goes someplace else, behavior would change.

Does forced, or coerced behavioral change reverse fundamental thinking or reasoning processes?  It probably does, though not for certain.  People did not really reject American slavery as an institution until abolition was mandated.  Once they couldn't own slaves, it was short shift to shouldn't even if allowed.  Same with seatbelts.  Behavior forced, but soon accepted as the proper thing to do.  Or integrated restaurants or not smoking.  I can't eventually becomes I won't even if I could.  It is a difficult transition, one requiring examination of what our esteemed agencies really want to achieve, and abandoning what has not worked well, especially when it can never work well.

Alas, I think many of my Jewish advocacy agencies, whose goals align with mine, have just gotten too inbred to schect their sacred cows to breed a sturdier cow.

Eliminating Readers' Comments

Our electronic media has its advantages along with its disadvantages.  Inviting readers to comment, even with a screener to approve what appears often enriches the original thoughts or moves them in a different direction but it can introduce some ugliness too.  Blog formats such as Medscape and KevinMD where my medical articles appear depend on input from specialized and interested readers who share some of the skills and experiences of the original articles.  They are moderated, at least until the responder is known by the editors not to be a troll, and are invariably polite even when expressing disapproval of what was published.

Major forums like CNN or big daily newspapers will get thousands of comments.  Once a critical number is passed, any being read becomes less likely while trolls getting through becomes nearly a certainty so editing may not be very important.

People may not like doctors as a group or their doctor specifically but medical care does not engender hate.  Political news does, perhaps even depends on some of it, religion can, which may be why the Freemasons devoted to brotherhood among members has banned these topics of discussion from their gatherings.

The Forward, the Jewish daily that now only has an electronic version to which I subscribe, sits at the intersection of Jewish identity, American political divisions, and Israel as a frequent flash point.  Many of their news and opinion pieces reflect top notch reporting and analysis, others seem more amateurish.  Irrespective of the individual writers' talents at expression, the subjects stand on their own.  They used to invite reader comments but recently eliminated this forum, even with mandatory approval of a moderator before appearing.  My input had been somewhat frequent, viewed by me as a perk for my annual subscription fee, though I almost never came back the next day to see if their editor approved what I had submitted.  That's probably because I really didn't care.  The purpose of that input was more for me to digest what I thought I had understood of the article or editorial, its implications, maybe possible future directions.  Influencing any other reader was not part of my personal expectation.  And if they eliminate that feature for everyone, it may be they didn't like the readers' feedback, other readers complained, or they frittered too much valuable editors' salaries reviewing the comments.  I don't feel slighted but do think they may have disinvited some readers who valued their own opportunities to contribute.

That feels very different from a temporary tact by David Harris, CEO of the American Jewish Committee, and fellow two years ahead of me in college.  He expresses his views on Israel and Anti-Semitism in many forums, including Twitter.  What he did, and apparently reversed, was set criteria of who met his importance standards for offering feedback to what he expressed.  Being a Nobody, I didn't, something I resented enough to Unfollow him for a few weeks in lieu of his more junior staff who would retweet the boss' positions.  Some of us value our place in the community of readers and very much resent being selectively declared Nobodies even when we are.

While I liked commenting on some of what The Forward brings to the Jewish arena of ideas, I don't feel deprived by this editorial decision on their part.  They have a Facebook presence which does not require a subscription fee and where trolls are part of the platform.  And I can always submit a more formal Letter to the Editor.

Fluid Day

One of those fluid days, literally and figuratively.  Sipping my second cup of herb tea, one of the varietals that has a more inviting picture on the box than taste.  Spiced cider earlier today.  Reached my daily three cup ration of coffee long before it could affect my sleep.  Maybe some sherry before dinner.  And a beverage of some type with shabbos dinner, at least kiddush wine.

As of this morning I had no appointments other than having dinner ready before candle lighting, an easy task with all dinner defrosted and microwave suitable, except the broccoli crown.

An enticing AJC seminar came my way, following a similar themed The Forward seminar last night on addressing the robust presence of antisemitism on the internet.  My professional writing has to go through an editor.  I cannot just submit something to a print or broadcast publication and demand its appearance, though forums like my blog do not have a barrier to deter their appearance in cyberspace.  Eventually the online platforms will either need better accountability for what appears there, much like broadcast media's enforceable standards or they will need to be broken up by anti-trust law, which may have an undesired consequence of their competing with each other to see who is most accepting of submissions they receive.  At the very least, a regulatory agency and regulatory laws have to emerge.  Nobody addressed the elephant in the room, the use of these platforms by sovereign foreign governments to disrupt America.  You can negotiate a solution, but ultimately a credible threat of the military protecting American interests affirms that we mean business on this.

I had intended to do my writing and thinking today.  Medscape topic selected a month ago, a difficult one.  Did some of the background reading and pretty much decided how to package and present my essay.  KevinMD was a little harder.  Three false starts on Consult Maven. 

My medical subjects could include my alma mater's establishment of a business ethics program with a Sugar Daddy to support it.  This would mandate its inclusion in the curriculum starting with the first year.  We had such a project called Community Medicine which, while well intentioned, diverted us from the hard science that dominates early medical school.  It was obvious to us that the requirement was imposed by somebody who had the means to impose it, not because it was essential to study at that stage of training in the format offered.  I suspect the same now with the Business Ethics initiative, more predicated on its availability and authority of its funding source than its essential nature.  It is a very important issue, though, one that impacts every physician from medical school through retirement. My entries into the blog rambled in thought.  I could restrict the focus better, finish the blog entry, and repackage the thoughts for KevinMD.  Aborted effort on how Covid-19 effectively diverted endless essays about how badly our employers treat their physicians or autonomy lost to more noble subjects that make our obligations to our patients worth the travails of our EHRs, intrusive administrators, and burnout.  I scrolled back to pre-Covid KevinMD publications.  To my surprise, the focus on our professional troubles had seemed to be on the wane before Covid-19 captured the American medical conversation.  Finally, I settled on something separate from Covid, but an unsaid part of medicine, the lack of pricing transparency.  We all know the stories of insane itemized markups and providers and payers who concur that it is too disruptive to fix.  A TED talk from a journalist who compiles real pricing information from real patients documents the lunacy.  Whether the cure is worse than the condition makes for a good discussion.  Put in Consult Maven first, then repackage.  This one seems to be going well.

Was hoping to do more around the house but haven't.  And I still want to get my monthly Jewish donation to its destination before shabbos.